Keeping Numb
by fancyatic
Summary: Spencer and Ashley. A story about falling in love even when you didn't think you could.
1. Chapter 1

You know when you get those moments when your heart starts beating louder than a drum, those moments when your chest constricts and you feel like if you even breathe wrong it'll burst out of your skin, those "oh shit" moments. Well I had one of those moments when I was sixteen, standing in my kitchen watching the flames envelope those cheap flower curtains my mom bought at Walmart. Now you'd think the logical thing for me to do would be to run as fast as my fat legs could carry me, but I didn't. I just stood there enthralled by the way the flames danced across those curtains, the way they ate those flowers up like they were nothing. And I stood there, just taking it in, not noticing the flames rising higher and the thick smoke surrounding me. That is until I felt strong arms gathering me up and dragging me out of the house. You could say that that moment was an epiphany for me, or you could say it was the stupidest moment of my life, but either way I know it changed my perception on things. Because after the first 10 seconds of the heart drumming, chest tightening, "oh shit" moment, I wasn't scared. I was surrounded by fire, smoke flowing up my nose so it made my eyes water, but all I could think about was how beautiful it looked. I wasn't scared.

And maybe that's the reason why I'm doing 100mph on my motorcycle after taking 10 shots of tequila with my friends...and I swallowed the worm if you were wondering. And I'm loving every minute of it. I do this almost every week, get drunk and hop on my motorcycle letting the wind whip through my hair and the smell of the ocean waft through my nostrils. See, I live in L.A. I know what you're thinking, fake hollywood chicks with fake tans and fake smiles. But not everything in L.A. is fake, like the smell of the ocean, or the way the sunlight streams through my window every morning, and my best friend who thinks that "King of Queens" is the funniest show on TV. Those aren't fake, and they never could be even if they tried. And its small things like that that make me love L.A. so much.

And it's these things I remember as I drag my hungover butt into the office at 9am, holding onto my Starbucks coffee which is the only thing keeping me standing at the moment. Preparing me for the onslaught of ringing phones, endless chatter, and the constant tip-tapping of people punching in keys on a keyboard with a fury. What do I do you ask? I'm a journalist, but not just any journalist, but soon to be the youngest editor of this crazy place in a couple years. I know I'm only 22, but damn it I get what I want, I always have, plus I'm brilliant and everybody at the paper knows it. I know it sounds like I'm tooting my own horn a bit here, but I've worked hard to get what I want and I'm proud of it.

I flop down behind my desk noticing Callie taking in my frazzled appearance, I can't really blame her, I know I didn't even try at all to look halfway decent, with my hair up in a messy ponytail and sporting my favorite leather jacket, graphic tee, and of course dark blue ripped jeans to complete the look. It's only a matter of time before Callie says something...I give her 5 minutes at the most.

"God Ashley, you look like you just rolled out of a teenage rock concert. What the hell did you get up to last night?"

3 and a half minutes. I love being right.

"Are you saying I look like a baby prostitute?" I say raising my eyebrow in mock disbelief.

"Shut up you idiot. I'm saying it looks like you didn't sleep at all last night, and considering that you're currently sipping a large coffee, and you hate coffee, I'd say that you're hungover too."

"Hey, this coffee is the only thing keeping me alive right now so I suggest you pay it homage because you know you can't live without me!"

She throws her pencil at me and we slip into our work easily. Browsing over the work I need to do for the day I realize why I love my job so much. It incorporates three of my favorite things, writing, communication...and hunting people down of course. Which is where I'm off to right now, hunting down a police officer who can hopefully give me more information on those bank robberies that have been all over the news. 45 minutes later and I'm sitting in a cafe listening to him drone on and on about information I already knew. 20 minutes into the conversation, or monologue I should say, my focus is distracted by the sight of a girl who just spilled her coffee all over some poor guy. The funny thing is though, that he doesn't seem to be mad or anything, far from it, he's actually blushing and stammering. This intrigues me even more and I listen in as she proclaims her sorrys and offers to buy him a new drink and pay to have his shirt dry cleaned. He mutters that it's okay it was an accident but she decides to buy him a new drink anyway, and as she turns to order him a drink, I see her face clearly and realize what's got him stuttering like a tourette's victim. Being a journalist in L.A. I've met a lot of beautiful people, but this girl was stunning. With her blonde hair and blue eyes you'd think she'd just be a common occurence in L.A. but there was something about her that enraptured me. A sort of innocent charm and sweet smile that made me believe that this girl had broken more than a few hearts.

"...and so the bureau has decided that the best approach to this situation is full publicity to prevent the robbers from escaping without being recognized."

I looked at the chubby man in front of me and realized that I hadn't been paying attention to a word he was saying, thank goodness he was to busy munching on his pie and disgustingly talking with his mouth full to notice my distraction.

"Well that seems to settle everything then. Thanks for taking the time out to talk to me." I reply.

"No problem. Are you sure you got everything down?"

"Yep definitely." A lie, seeing as I hadn't written down anything he had said. I stand up, reaching my hand out to shake his.

"Hey maybe you'd like to go out to dinner with me sometime?" he asks, before he settles his hand in my own.

"Uhhh...I'm in a relationship." Another lie, but its one that definitely needed to be told. I give him a quick smile before I head out the door.

Another thing you should know about me. I'm a full blown lesbian. Not that you'd ever be able to guess with my extensive number of relationships coming up to the wholesome amount of 3...one being when I was six and I kissed Clara while we were playing house, so I guess that one doesn't really count then. Actually I'm pretty sure that the other two didn't really count either since neither of them lasted more than two weeks. It's not that I haven't had plenty of opportunities, I don't think I'm bad to look at, and there have been some nice girls but none of them have been able to hold me down. I'm a free spirit, I'm not afraid of being alone, and to be quite honest I'm expecting it. You see, I have issues, maybe through some psychoanalysis bullshit you could say it's from the fire I almost died in when I was sixteen. But me, I say it's because there's no one out there who could possibly hold me down, not for long anyway. And do you know what's even more fucked up...I don't really care.


	2. Chapter 2

The second time I saw the blonde bombshell was a couple of weeks later, at some charity event where rich socialites pretend that they're humanitarians by donating a pittance of their extreme wealth to the starving kids in Africa. It's all very fine and dandy to help them out and all, but even they know that these L.A. events are just a way for overly tanned women to flaunt their money and appraise what everybody's wearing. As a journalist, I am required to go to these events and usually find myself sitting by the bar watching the unfolding events in utter boredom. But tonight was actually surprisingly pleasant, probably because I was watching the beauty in the black dress glide across the dance floor in the arms of a man who looked like he could have played prince charming in any play. She had my full attention, I found myself noticing everything about her. The way her whole face lit up when she flung her head back and laughed, a genuine laugh, not fake. The way she smiled at the older couple dancing next to them. The way she looked over towards the bar and caught my eye. And for some reason when she caught my eye I felt embarrassed that I had been looking at her all this time. Peeling my eyes away I noticed that I wasn't the only one, there were a few eyes that seemed to be looking her way. I'm not sure why I felt oddly irritated by that.

I turned back to the bartender and ordered a vodka cranberry. She'd been flirting with me all night, but I wasn't interested, any other night I would have flirted back and by the end of the night she'd be lying in bed beside me. But the only thing that was on my mind was the woman that had caught my attention from the first day I saw her.

"Can I have an orange juice please."

I immediately stiffen, I'd heard that voice before, except this time it wasn't hurriedly muttering apologies but ordering a drink. A myriad of thoughts just start streaming through my creative mind, she smells so good, like vanilla and chocolate.

"Can I get you anything Ashley?" The bartender asks me. I shake my head no.

Her presence near me is making me flustered and I don't like it one bit. She turns to look at me while the bartender makes her drink, I can see her from the corner of my eye while I pretend to be interested in swirling the olive around in my drink. I can see her contemplating saying something and my lip curls up at how nervous she seems.

"Do you come to these events often."

I turn to face her and see her smiling softly at me, and I briefly wonder how anyone could be made to be so flawlessly beautiful. The bartender pushes her drink in front of her looking very pissed off at the same time. I look at the blonde but she doesn't seem to notice and proceeds to take a seat on the barstool next to me.

"I have to. I'm a journalist. I can definitely think of better ways to spend a Friday night than watching rich snobs socialize," I joke. She laughs and tilts her head in a way that's so adorable I can't help but smile sweetly at her.

"Well, one of those rich snobs is my mom."

I start mentally kicking myself in the face, I can't believe I just insulted her mom, I mean duh why else would she be here if she wasn't one of them.

"Oh, I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that."

"Don't be, it's true. I wouldn't be here either if it wasn't for the fact that my mom forced me. Played the guilt card on me, you know the "I never get to see you, please just do one thing for me" card." She gives a wry smile and takes a sip of her drink.

"I know what you mean, my mom's been bugging me about coming to New York to see her." I fail to mention that she's only been inviting me because her therapist, that she's no doubt sleeping with, says that she needs to make up for all the time that she missed being a shit mother to me when I was younger. Do you know what I think? Too late.

"New York, huh. I've never been but I'd really like to go sometime. So tell me, what ways do you normally spend your Friday nights?" She smiles at me and I can't help smiling back, it's infectious.

"You don't wanna know," I give her a warning look.

"Try me. I think I can handle it." She gives me a smirk and I let her have it. Telling her all about my wild drunken nights that end up with me speeding down winding roads on my motorcycle.

"Are you serious?" She gives me an incredulous look and I just nod my head.

"I told you, you wouldn't want to know. Now I would say that you should come and try it with me sometime but I know that that'd be a bit too much for you to handle." I laugh.

"Who says I wouldn't be able to handle it?" She frowns at me with stubborness written all over her face. I have to say it's kind of cute.

"Oh yeah, you think you could handle it?" I smirk at her and she continues to frown.

"Yes, I think I can handle it. Do you know what, let's do it right now. You know, that's if you can handle it and all."

I sit stunned a little bit that she, the picture of innocence, would even suggest doing it. I manage to pull myself together and reply back.

"Oh I can handle it. But what about your boyfriend?" I motion to the prince charming standing on the other side of the room who had been none too covertly staring in our direction the moment she came over here.

"Oh he's not my boyfriend, just a friend. He'll be fine with it, I'll let him know we're leaving."

She walked over to the guy and I could tell that he seemed none too pleased about the change in plan but was putting on a front for her. Journalists instincts. I watched her walk back over to me with a smile on her face.

"You ready?" She asked.

"Yes...wait, I don't even know your name."

"Spencer... Spencer Carlin"


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay guys, first of all thank you for the reviews:) This is my first SON fic and reviews definitely keep me motivated to keep writing. Unfortunately I don't own South of Nowhere, if I did I'd make sure the show was on forever lol. But I do own this story, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed creating it.**

**Chapter 3**

Sitting in my Mustang with Spencer, driving to my favorite ocean I couldn't imagine how we got into this situation to begin with. Having picked up enough alcohol to make a sailor blush from the liquor store, there we were just cruising down the road with the wind blowing through our hair, and me blasting Led Zeppelin out the window.

"Do you always drive this fast?"

She asks me and I look at the speedometer and see that I'm doing 80mph on a 50mph road. I briefly entertain the thought of telling her that at midnight hardly anybody drives on this road. I decide against it though, seeing the way the wind whips through her hair and the moon shines its glow on her as if she were its pride and joy, catches the words in my mouth and new ones form of their own accord.

"Only when I'm in a hurry." I briefly look over at her and catch her frown.

"And why would you be in a hurry?" She asks, disappointment clearly laced into that sentence.

"I'm in a hurry because I want to spend as much time with you as I can before you decide that I'm not the person you want to be with tonight... and...and inevitably decide that you want to go back to the party where nobody will be drinking vodka out of a bottle, or sitting in the passenger seat of a reckless driver who couldn't dance to save her life."

I finish my little monologue feeling more vulnerable than I've ever felt, and ridiculously stupid for blurting all that out as if I didn't have a filter in my head. Unexpectedly she reaches over and places her hand gently on top of mine on the gear shift. The contact makes my skin tingle and my heart beat faster, and I start to wonder how she can make me react that way with just one touch.

"There's nowhere I'd rather be than right here with you."

My heart bursts at hearing those words and looking over seeing her smiling softly at me, I can't help but break out into a goofy grin. I look back towards the road and am pleased to find that she doesn't take her hand off of my own, but instead starts to rub soothing circles over the back of my hand with her thumb. We roll along smoothly, both comfortable in the silence that's formed. Do you believe in love at first sight? I don't...well, at least I didn't until tonight, until the moment when our hands met, when it felt like electrical currents were shooting up my arm and I couldn't breathe normally.

We finally pull into the parking lot in front of the beach, and when her hand leaves mine I immediately miss it. Dragging the alcohol out of the trunk we start to make our way down to the beach.

"Do you come to the beach often?" I hear her asking from beside me. I refrain from looking at her because right now, with the way I'm feeling, I'd probably do something stupid like jump her or something.

"A few times a week. It's just really relaxing, you know, to just get away from work, from everything, and smell the ocean, feeling the sand under your feet."

I start laying out the blanket I keep in my car exactly for the times I just described to her, and she starts to sit while I hand her a beer. She takes it, and for a brief moment our fingers connect around the can sending that now familiar jolt up my arm. I take a seat quickly next to her on the blanket.

"Before we lived in L.A. we used to live in Ohio, and let's just say the closest thing we ever got to the ocean were the huge ponds that were made from the floods. I remember me and my brothers would jump around in them, and my mom would be so pissed. I mean, it was okay for the boys to do, but she'd always yell at me that little girls didn't do those sort of things."

I scoffed at this, typical characteristic of a prejudiced mother. Spencer turned to look at me, a grin appearing on her face, and I looked back at her.

"I kept on doing it anyway, of course." I laughed.

"Ooohhh, Spencer the rebel is it?"

"Well you know me, always up for a good time!"

I looked in her eyes and could see the challenge set in them. I had no doubt that little Spencer had caused her mom a fair bit of trouble back in the day. I stood up suddenly and held out my hand to her, lifting her up to a standing position. We were standing face to face, so close that our bodies were almost touching.

"Take off your clothes." My eyes challenge hers as soon as I make that statement. Brown eyes mix with blue as she registers what I just said.

"What?" She whispers into the air, eyes never leaving mine.

"I said take off your clothes...we're going swimming. That's if you can handle a bit of skinny dipping?"

I leave her stunned form standing on the beach, watching as I start running towards the ocean stripping off my clothes as I go. By the time I reach the edge I'm completely naked and I take a glance behind me to where Spencer is still standing. Our eyes lock and I'm starting to think that this was a bad idea until I see her slowly start to unzip the zipper on the back of her black dress. I'm mesmerized. I can't believe how the simplest move could look so fucking sexy when she's doing it. Her dress slips to the floor and she hesitates a moment before she slides down her panties and then uncups her bra. I'm paralyzed. And I want to say something or do something but she's walking slowly towards me now and words escape me. I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life. She's blushing, and I can't understand how she could be. She must realize she's the sexiest thing to walk this planet, that anybody would kill to have a body like hers, a face like hers, a smile like hers. And a surge of selfishness fills me up. I don't want anybody to see her the way I've seen her tonight, I want her all to myself. I've never wanted anything in my life and now I want her.

She walks past me and steps into the water. She glances over her shoulder and with one sentence she has me, she has me so completely and unabashedly.

"You coming?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Chapter 5. Read and Review.**

I follow her into the water and she takes my hand as we wade in deeper. And it's never felt like the most natural thing in the world, holding her hand and letting the water wash over us. Before I know it, she's splashing me with water and a full out splashfest is happening both of us laughing hysterically, and I feel like a kid again. I feel like how it felt to run after that ice cream truck with a fistful of quarters in my hand from my dad, hearing the other kids running behind me and laughing because the ice cream truck always stops. It pretends like it doesn't see you...but it always stops.

"Okay, Okay, you win. You're the best freaking water splasher I've ever met! Ugh, I'm having a hard time even opening my eyes after that tsunami."

I laugh and give her a smug smile, noticing her rub the salt water out of her eyes. I walk closer to her and lift her hands from her eyes.

"Let me see." I place my hands on her face and look deeper into her eyes using the moonlight as a guide to try and see if she rubbed an eyelash in them. Noticing a lash on her eyelid, I blow softly on it and watch it disappear. I pull back a bit from her face and watch her carefully.

"Is that better?" I ask, gulping because I suddenly realize how close and how naked we are. She gives me a look I've never seen before and one I can't really describe.

"Yeah...it's perfect."

She gives me a breathtaking smile and grabs my hand leading me towards the shore, and I follow dutifully loving the way her hand feels in mine. Once we get to the sand, we slip our clothes back on and I briefly wonder if she wants me to take her home now. She places herself on the blanket and looks up at me.

"Do you want to go back?" I ask a bit fearfully because I don't really want this night to end so soon.

"No, do you?"

"Not particularly, no." I give her a smile and flop down beside her.

"Good. It's so nice out here. I don't think I've ever come to the ocean at night. It's peaceful, sort of calming. "

I watch her as she talks and notice the way the corner of her lip curls up when she's talking about something nice, and the way her finger is tracing circles on the skin just above her knee. I hand her the bottle of tequila and she knocks back a few gulps and then passes it back to me. I take a few gulps myself and we sit in silence for a while just watching the waves and passing the bottle back and forth. She looks at me suddenly with an intensity that could just be the alcohol, but something's telling me that that's not where the intensity is coming from.

"Do you feel it?"

I know what she's talking about but at that moment I'm indescribably scared, all of this is too real for me, too unknown. How can she be making me feel this way when I only just met her? This isn't something I'm used to, not having control over my feelings or what's happening. I don't answer her. I stare off into the ocean, hoping for some of that calm she was talking about to rub off on me. I feel her move closer to me and she grabs my hands.

"Tell me you feel it?" She begs.

And I'm forced to look at her, and it's her eyes that get me, the way those deep blue orbs that remind me of the ocean look into my own like they can see right through my soul. Her lips meet mine in the softest kiss, lips brushing against each other, barely there. And for an instant I think I've gone mad, wanting her lips against mine forever. The kiss intensifies as I grab her face and pull her in closer, loving the way her tongue flicks across my bottom lip asking for entrance. And I give it to her wholeheartedly as her kiss takes me to heaven.

We stumble our way to my car, me a bit tipsy, Spencer quite clearly drunk. I help her into the passenger seat while she mumbles something about this being the best night she's ever had. I smile to myself as I slip into the driver's seat and start driving. Now here's the dilemma, not that I'm tipsy because I seem to have a high tolerance for alcohol and can perform fairly well even when I am completely wasted. But that I have no idea where Spencer lives and the party would have been over a long time ago. I debate what to do, and finally decide that I have no choice but to take her to my house for the night, promising myself that I have to keep my hands off her especially in her drunken state, even if she throws herself at me.

I pull into my driveway, shutting off the car I turn to her only to see that she's looking at me with what could only be described as wanton lust. I inwardly groan, conjuring up images of bald Britney Spears trying to stalk me. Aaah, gone, that was easy. I help her out of the car and into the house, my body screaming from the way her hands keep running all over my stomach. I briefly entertain the thought of handcuffing her to the bed so she doesn't jump me, which only brings back even dirtier images of the two of us together. And this time, the Britney Spears gig doesn't seem to be working.

"Ashleeeeyy, come to bed with me, I want you in my bed." She slurs as I drag her up the stairs to my room.

"Uhh, I think it's a bit too early for that Spencer." I say, sitting her on the bed and kneeling in front of her so I can take her shoes off. She places her hands on my face and pulls me up to look at her with an adorable head tilt.

"No it's not. You can be my teddy bear."

And that's what broke any self control I had left. I have no idea how what she said could be so cute yet so unbelievably sexy at the same time. I almost run to the adjacent bathroom in a last ditch attempt to get some sort of control back. After taking a deep breath and splashing some cold water on my face, I make my way back to the bedroom only to find Spencer passed out, legs and arms sprawled out all over the bed looking like the cutest thing I've ever seen. I grab a blanket from the closet and cover her gently with it being careful not to wake her up. Giving her a kiss on the forehead I start walking towards the door, muttering a "Goodnight, Spencer" before I make my way downstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to everyone that left a review, it really is encouraging since half the time I think what I'm writing is utter crap so it's nice to know that at least a few people are enjoying it. And sorry for the wait, work is kicking my butt...literally. Today I ended up walking face first into the door in an effort to avoid being late...good times.**

**Chapter 5**

7am, I've never woken up this early, but sleep just seems useless when you have the most amazing person you've ever met in your house. It's like when you're a kid and you can't wait to wake up and open those Christmas presents, and right now I just can't wait to see her face again.

The kitchen has got to be my favorite part of this house, standing here flipping chocolate chip pancakes and listening to the silence of an early morning. I love my kitchen. I love the way everything is in its exact spot, the way the pictures of my sister's kids on the fridge make it feel like a home.

"Good morning"

I freeze in the middle of a pancake flip at the voice, only to watch half of the pancake flop over the side of the pan ruining the essence of a perfect pancake. Great. I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to cooking food, and one wrong move always turns me into a bit of a grouch. But my instant cup of bad mood disappears when I hear her speak again.

"Sorry...I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to know if you needed any help?"

"It's okay, I just wasn't expecting you to be up so early. Have a seat, I'm almost done...Do you want something to drink?"

"Orange juice would be fine, thanks."

She sits on the stool behind the island while I pour a glass of orange juice and hand it to her. I silently go back to flipping pancakes and I have to admit rather than being peaceful, the silence was kind of awkward now. That and the fact that I'm not really much to look at right now, wearing my black framed glasses and a long-sleeved t-shirt with some shorts. It's kind of not fair. Spencer looks adorably tousled, wearing one of my oversized button up shirts that I like to wear for painting, her hair's all mussed but it looks so sexy, like she purposely spent hours in the mirror trying to get it to look like she just woke up with sexy hair.

I slide her a plate of pancakes, taking a seat on the other side of the island directly in front of her, and watch her eat. Smiling to myself at how eager she looks digging into the pancakes.

"Oh my gosh, these are soooo good! Are you not having any?" She mumbles to me through a mouthful of pancake.

I beam with pride. Yeah, that's right. It's my pancakes that have got her ignoring all table manners and smearing chocolate all over her adorable face. Point for Ashley!

"Thanks, I'm glad you like them. I'm never really hungry in the morning, so you just go on and eat as much as you want."

I full out grin when I see her nod happily, chocolate all over her cheek.

"What?" She asks, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing" I laugh. "You've just got some chocolate on your cheek."

She frowns and rubs at her cheek, while I just grin at the expression on her face.

"You know your nose crinkles when you do that," she tells me, giving me that head tilt again.

"When I do what?" I ask, a bit confused.

"When you're really happy and you start grinning...your nose crinkles. It's cute."

I blush red and she just nonchalantly goes back to eating her pancakes. I watch her face closely as she eats, taking in every detail of her face, the tiny scar at her hairline, the smidgen of chocolate at the corner of her mouth. She looks up and our eyes meet. I gulp.

"So um...do you want to do anything today...with me. I mean it doesn't have to be with me...I don't really have any plans for today...I mean if you don't...and maybe uh you'd wanna do something...but you don't have to, I mean."

Somebody shoot me now. I never get nervous. I absolutely never get nervous. What is wrong with me!? I was dropped as a child...that must be it, and my mental incapacity conveniently decided to show up now when I'm about to get rejected for sounding like such a retard.

"Sounds good." She replies simply.

What? That's it. No maybe we can do it another time or sorry I don't hang out with people who can't form full sentences.

"Okay...um where do you wanna go. We could go to the beach, or a coffee shop, or there's this really cool bar slash cafe in town, oh and I think I saw somewhere that there's a fair going on, or the zoo, we could go to the park too if you want?"

"Ashley, wherever you go, I'll go."

She smiles at me and my heart melts. And for some reason I know that it wouldn't matter where we went as long as I was going to that place with her, that's all that would matter.


	6. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

**This fic is the first story I've ever written so I'm definitely not done with it, but I am putting it on hiatus for a little bit so that I can concentrate more on my other fic Blind Hues. But I'll hopefully be posting some more chapters soon, so for those of you who reviewed wondering if there was going to be more, there will be and I'll post some more as soon as I can so keep your eyes open:)**

**-Fancyatic**


	7. Chapter 7

**So I'm back with this. I'll be honest with you, I have no idea when or how often I'll be able to update but I'll try my best.**

**Keeping Numb - Chapter 6**

We go to the park and I finally realize why couples come here all the time, there's something about walking through the park with someone you like that's so pleasant and comfortable. And everyone just seems so happy…I'm happy.

"You know, I used to sneak out to the park all the time when I was a kid. I went to this private school where everyone was so stuck up and into themselves, it was like the park was the only place where I could find normal people." Spencer says, taking a bite of her ice cream cone.

"Normal people besides me, I was always at the park, but I was usually doing something weird like digging holes in the ground looking for imaginary fairies." I reply, and Spencer laughs.

"That is kind of weird…but cute at the same time," she replies.

I smile at her, and we continue walking until my cellphone starts making the most obnoxious ringing sound. I mutter "sorry" embarrassingly as I reach into my pocket to grab my phone, and Spencer just grins at me. It's a text from Callie: "Where are you? The iron maiden is gonna throw a fit if you don't get your ass into the office right now!"

I outwardly groan and Spencer immediately looks at me with concern.

"Is everything okay?" She asks.

"Yeah, it's just that my crazy boss needs me to be in the office right now. And when I say she's crazy, I'm not kidding. I have no doubt that one day she's gonna Mike Tyson my ass and bite my ear off."

Spencer laughs. "Well, we'd better get you back then. I have a feeling that you might need your ears in the future."

"Yeah, I think you're right," I smile. "Where do you want me to drop you off?"

"It's okay, I live just outside of this park." She points towards the park entrance. "I can walk, it's only a few minutes away from the park".

"Are you sure? I mean, I can drop you off it's not a problem."

"Ashley, seriously, I live right outside the park. I could probably throw a stone out of my bedroom window and it would hit you in the head."

"Hey!" I laugh. "My head is just as valuable as my ears…I use it a lot you know."

"I don't doubt it." She gives me a stunning smile and I melt for a moment. "I've really had fun with you. I'm not sure what your schedule's like, or if you would even want to, but maybe we could get together again this week. I mean, if you want, no pressure or anything."

I inwardly laugh because now she's the one that's getting nervous. Oh, how the roles have reversed. I instantly feel a bit better about myself knowing that I'm affecting her at least a little bit. I pull out a notepad and pen from my journalist satchel and write: "I would love to. Call me tonight, 562-213-4905." Slipping the note into her hand, I instantly feel nervous again. I watch her read the note, looking up at me smiling when she's finished, she leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll talk to you soon," she whispers in my ear before she walks away.

* * *

I walk into the office and immediately run into Callie who whispers frighteningly to me: "The iron maiden wants to see you in her office now!" I gulp and walk as slowly as I possibly can towards her office. My boss is brilliant, but she's also very scary. She's my role model.

"Come in." She calls out before I've even had the chance to knock on the door. I walk in warily, very much aware of the possibility that I could leave this office with no ear.

"Take a seat." I sit down. "Where have you been?"

I scramble to come up with a good excuse. "I, um, fell down the stairs and sort of had a mild concussion. I was a bit dazed for a while but managed to pull myself together to come into work today." I feel very proud of this excuse, original yet plausible.

My pride begins to falter a bit when I see her just look at me with a stone cold expression. The thing about my boss is that she is a very attractive woman. But her undeniable emotionless power makes her incredibly attractive but also demonically scary at the same time. I am usually, on a regular basis, torn between wanting to jump her or cower in a corner.

"Do you know what the mark of a good journalist is, Ashley?" She asks, twiddling her very expensive fountain pen between her fingers.

"Um, good communication skills?" I offer.

"No. It is the ability to make something sound better than it actually is. You're a terrible liar Ashley, you should work on that. "

She gets out of her chair and I contemplate running for my life, but I relax when she starts pacing back and forth behind her office chair.

"We're running a piece on young L.A. socialites and one of the socialites we would like to interview has specifically requested you."

I'm surprised for a moment and wonder who it might be, I'm dying to ask, but the one thing I've learnt from being in the iron maiden's office on many occasions is to never speak unless I'm spoken to. I learnt that lesson the hard way.

"The socialite will be here in 30 minutes. I trust you'll be able to get a good interview?" She looks at me with the intensity I've come to know well.

"Of course." I reply.

"Good. You can leave now."

I walk out of her office and see Callie nervously biting her fingernails at her desk. I walk over and take a seat at my desk next to hers.

"What happened?" She whispers urgently. "Did the iron maiden try to kill you?"

I laugh. "No, not yet. But I have a feeling that if I'm late again, she just might. She wants me to do an interview for a piece about young socialites. Interviewing a snobby, rich kid doesn't sound like my idea of fun."

"Aww, boo. Well it's a hell of a lot better than my assignment! The iron maiden is making me research the history of garbage collection in L.A. for a piece on the state of refuse dumps. Kill me now."

I can't help but burst out laughing. "Good luck with that! If this socialite is a cute guy I'll forward him to you so that you can quit this job, get married, and live the rest of your life as a real housewife of Orange County."

"Oh would you! That would be great!" She smirks sarcastically.

I laugh and get down to work. I still needed to start my article on the bank robberies and do some research on the childcare system in L.A. before this socialite came into the office.

* * *

A half an hour later and I'm still steadily forging ahead with my work when I hear a deep voice above my head.

"Ashley Davies?"

I look up and am momentarily surprised to see the guy that Spencer was with at the fundraiser last night standing above my head.

"Yes?" I reply.

He reaches out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Aiden Dennison. I'm here to do an interview with you about L.A. socialites."

"Oh okay, right." I shake his hand, and I can see Callie out of the corner of my eye staring intently at this man. I'm not surprised, he is clearly very attractive. "Let's go into the conference room, it will be a lot quieter."

He follows me into the conference room and we take seats opposite each other. I take out my trusty notebook and pen, fully immersing myself into journalist mode.

"So, Aiden. Tell me more about what it's like to be a socialite." I look up at him, pen in hand, ears open, eyes focused…the typical stance of a journalist.

"I saw you last night…at the fundraiser?" He looks at me, eyes probing.

"Yeah, I think I saw you too. Are those events part of your everyday routine as a socialite?"

"You were talking with Spencer, right." He says, totally ignoring my question.

"Um, yeah I was. Do the two of you come to these types of events a lot? Is it sort of expected of you as a young L.A. socialite?" I try to redirect the conversation back to the original question.

"Yeah, me and Spencer come to a lot of these events together. But then again, it's kind of expected that we would since she's my girlfriend and everything." He smiles.

I almost choke. "Sorry, did you say Spencer's your girlfriend? As in…your dating?" I ask, almost too afraid of the answer.

"Yes. Spencer's my girlfriend, hopefully more than that soon. I'm planning on proposing," he says, beaming.

And with that I think my heart falls out of my chest.

I'm back home…back to drinking. I've never been so disappointed, and I feel stupid for allowing myself to get so attached to someone I hardly even knew. I'm not weak. I don't fall for girls that I just met, in fact, I don't fall for girls period. I've never been hurt because I never let myself get hurt. But today I let myself get hurt, and it hurts like a bitch.

My phone starts ringing, I pick it up. Unknown number…Spencer. I push ignore.


End file.
